<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Swan Song by sxlcouthgeek</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29534865">Swan Song</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxlcouthgeek/pseuds/sxlcouthgeek'>sxlcouthgeek</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Chef Dean Winchester, Cursed Castiel (Supernatural), Curses, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gift Exchange, Gift Fic, M/M, Magic, PBExchangeReunion, Poverty, There's no happy ending here sorry to disappoint, Witch Curses, profoundnet, this is a sad story</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:33:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,999</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29534865</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxlcouthgeek/pseuds/sxlcouthgeek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean yawned widely, pulling out his keys from his pocket when his little house came into view. As he got closer, steps shaky and small, he spotted something dark on his doorstep. Squinting, he tried to make out what it was but it was much too dark to really see. Hunger and fatigue forgotten for the moment, Dean only had eyes for the dark lump as he walked towards his house. He reached the door and bent down.</p>
<p>It was a swan with pure, inky black feathers. It just lay there, unmoving.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean finds an injured swan on his doorstep and cares for it till it gets better and flies away. Weeks later, someone shows up at his doorstep and his life changes forever.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury/Gilda (mentioned), Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Profound Bond Gift Exchange: Reunion</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Swan Song</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanne_de_Valois/gifts">Jeanne_de_Valois</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm pretty nervous about this because I've never done a gift exchange before. This one took me a pretty long time. I started writing three different stories before I settled on this one lmao. Caitlin, I really hope you like this! I've been wanting to work on a sad fic for a pretty long time and this was the perfect excuse to stop procrastinating. Your guidelines were really fun to work with! :)</p>
<p>For those of you who are wondering why this story sounds kinda sorta familiar, it's because it's based on a Japanese folk tale called The Crane Wife. There are a lot of versions I found online. You can read one of them <a href="http.www.writingroom.com/viewwriting/mandycrum/The-Crane-Wife"> here. </a></p>
<p>And of course, thanks to my awesome betas, <a href="/users/EtherealBagel"> EtherealBagel, </a> <a href="/users/Paper_rings"> Paper_rings, </a> <a href="/users/Basically_a_fangirl"> Basically_a_fangirl </a> and <a href="/users/Intronerd"> Intronerd </a> for always being there for me. I love you all so so much :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Night had already set in, the sky dark and cloudy, by the time Dean started making his way back home. He was tired to the bone and though his stomach growled with hunger, all he could think about was falling into his bed and getting some much needed sleep. Sir Alastair, his employer had organised a feast and since Dean’s partner in the kitchen, Benny, was with his wife as she birthed their child, Dean had had to get up before dawn even broke to make his way to the large kitchens to make sure there was food enough for the hundreds of lords and ladies that would grace the mansion with their presence in the evening.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Needless to say, it had been an exhausting day, what with running around shouting instructions at the maids, baking breads and pies and roasting meats and making sure that everything was served at the right time. For a while Dean had been scared that they would fall short of wine but his fears were unfounded. Overall, everything went smoothly and even the leers and lewd words directed his way by some of the Lords and Ladies could not ruin his satisfaction at a job well done. He was hungry and thirsty and his limbs ached but he could not wipe the grin off his face when he thought of the fact that he had the next two days off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His smile fell off his face when he saw Sir Alastair approaching him. Dean wasn’t overly fond of his master. The man may have been a knight, but he was in no way honourable. He was cruel and deceitful and if it were up to Dean, he would never have worked for him. But it was not like Dean had many job options and he did have to earn money to feed himself. So here he was, stuck working in the kitchens of a horrible master, a master who was currently telling him that he was not going to allow Dean a single day off and that he’d have to be here early next morning to make him breakfast.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Which is why, as Dean walked home, he resigned himself to the fact that he would have to go to sleep on an empty stomach instead of staying up cooking and wasting precious time he could spend resting. Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that his master barely paid him enough to survive. Obviously.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean yawned widely, pulling out his keys from his pocket when his little house came into view. As he got closer, steps shaky and small, he spotted something dark on his doorstep. Squinting, he tried to make out what it was but it was much too dark to really see. Hunger and fatigue forgotten for the moment, Dean only had eyes for the dark lump as he walked towards his house. He reached the door and bent down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a swan with pure, inky black feathers. It just lay there, unmoving.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean hesitantly reached out and touched it, thinking it to be dead but the moment he made contact with it, the bird let out a weak, pitiful sound. Dean got down on his knees and looked more closely. In the dim moonlight, he could just about make out that its wing was bent at an unnatural angle, the feathers torn and ruffled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looked around in the dark, contemplating what to do. He had to be at work early the next morning and he already earned just barely enough to afford two meals a day. But he couldn’t just leave this beautiful, helpless bird here to perish from its injuries. It felt wrong, inhuman. He looked down at the swan once again and saw that it was staring at him, bright blue eyes almost pleading. In a split second, he made his decision. Everything else be damned, Dean couldn’t let the bird die painfully like this. He picked it up carefully, as if he were picking up a little babe, and took it into his house as the bird shut its eyes and leaned its small head against his chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first night was difficult.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean tried, but he knew nothing whatsoever about caring for a bird and whenever he touched the swan, it made a weak little sound as if it were in pain, and shied away. No matter what Dean tried, nothing helped. It was no surprise then, that eventually Dean grew frustrated, threw his hands up in surrender and decided to leave the swan alone. For a brief moment, Dean thought that he could be in his bed, asleep right now if only he’d left the swan outside. He immediately banished that thought, guilt coursing through him. He got up and got some grain and a bowl of water for the swan. He put them in front of it and as the swan leaned in and fed, Dean made himself comfortable on his bed. Before he knew, he was drifting off and the last coherent thought he had before he fell into slumber, under the swan’s watchful blue eyes, was that he would nurse it back to health, no matter what it took.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next night wasn’t any easier.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Work was exhausting, even more so because Dean had hardly gotten enough rest. Sir Alastair had been in a bad mood all day, snapping at Dean every time a dish wasn’t to his liking (which was all the dishes, even though Dean had prepared them in the exact way he had been instructed to). Dean felt weak, not having eaten anything at all for almost two days. He doubted that he was going to get anything to eat today, either. Luckily for him, his friend Charlie, one of the maids, sneaked some old bread into the kitchen when it was empty for the both of them to eat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You work twice as hard as the rest of us, and he treats you all the worse for it,” she said, shaking her head in anger as Dean groaned in pleasure around a mouthful of bread. They chatted about various things, flitting from one topic to another and once or twice Dean contemplated telling Charlie about the swan but then thought better of it. The bread was finished before they knew it and they went their separate ways, grumbling about their master in lieu of a farewell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time Dean got back home, he had almost forgotten about the swan. It raised its head from where it was curled up in a corner, the moment it heard Dean open the door. Dean jumped back and cursed.</p>
<p>“Jesus fucking Christ,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You’re going to be the death of me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That night, too, Dean put down in front of the swan a bowl of water, some grain and some bread that he had sneaked out of his master’s house. While it fed, Dean tried once again to get a close look at the feathers, maybe try and figure out how to bandage them. The swan moved away again. After a few lengthy minutes of trying, Dean gave up again and went to bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But things got better over time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The swan slowly began to heal. It ate more, moved around and even allowed Dean to apply some healing paste to its wings. Its eyes began growing brighter and the lustre had begun returning to its beautiful black feathers. Some days, it made weak attempts to fly, and Dean was always there to catch it and soothe it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> In time, Dean made a friend of the swan. He would come back home and talk about his day while the swan listened as they ate. On particularly bad days, days when Dean was starving, or feared that he'd lose his job, the swan waddled up and nuzzled against his neck. It would let Dean pet him as his worries slowly drained away. Both of them were lonely, and both of them sought comfort in the other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It didn’t last forever, though. The swan was a creature of nature, of the water and the sky. It was unfair to keep it here, in Dean’s house, when it had healed completely. So, months after Dean had taken the swan in, he gathered it in his arms, took it outside and let it go. The swan nuzzled against his neck one last time and Dean watched it as it flew away, till it was nothing but a tiny black speck in the vast blue sky.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a sigh, Dean walked back into his house and immediately, his eyes fell upon a single, long black feather in a corner. Dean was taken aback by the sudden tears that filled his eyes. He gently, reverently picked up the feather and cradled it to his chest before placing it on the small table next to his bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The following weeks were not easy for Dean. Benny was still not back, having to take care of both his sick wife and his little daughter, which meant that the entire responsibility of overseeing the kitchens fell on Dean. Alistair had had a little falling out with his fellow knights and took out all his anger and frustration on Dean, snapping at any minor inconvenience, even if it was in no way Dean’s fault. Sam hadn’t been able to make time for his usual monthly visits for almost half a year, owing to a particularly tricky case that he was working, and this month was no exception. Charlie always took a few minutes out of her day to talk to Dean and sometimes, if they were lucky, to bring him some food. However, most of her free time was spent courting the new maid, a pretty brunette by the name of Gilda.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean was starved, exhausted and lonely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Very often, almost every night in fact, he stared at the black feather till he fell asleep. He found himself missing his little swan friend every time he had so much as a moment to stop and think. And he wished every day that he had someone to share his life with, someone he could love. Whenever he saw Charlie with Gilda, or stopped by Benny and Andrea’s for a visit, or got a letter from Sam where he inevitably began rambling about his wife Eileen halfway through, Dean would feel even worse. He was happy for all of them, but he couldn’t help but feel bitter, too. And he was ashamed of himself for it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Everything changed when a stranger showed up at his door one day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a really cold night. The fire in the tiny fireplace had all but died out. Dean was curled up in a foetal position in his bed, shivering despite being wrapped up in his warmest sheet. His stomach growled angrily in hunger as he tried to shut everything out and fall asleep. He rubbed his hands up and down on his arms in an effort to warm himself. Seconds turned into minutes and after almost an hour later, when he had finally managed to numb his senses, the sound of knocking reverberated in the tiny room. Dean groaned and decided to ignore it, curling up further into himself and pulling the sheet tighter around him. A few minutes passed and Dean had just begun to think that whoever it was had gone away when the knocking sounded again, this time louder and more urgent. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>With great reluctance, Dean pulled himself out of his bed and dragged himself to the door, teeth chattering because of the cold. He had a scowl on his face and a few choice curses on his tongue as he flung open the door. The words all died in his mouth when he took in the sight of the man standing in front of him. The first thing Dean noticed was <em> blue </em>. The most ethereal, mesmerising blue eyes Dean had ever seen stood out in a pallid and gaunt face. A mop of messy, windswept dark hair and a rough stubble framed the man's sunken visage. He was clad in rags and was shivering visibly. He had no possessions save for a tattered coat that was much too big for him, pulled tightly over his shoulders, flapping in the wind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When the man spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Please," he started, voice soft and hoarse with disuse, "Can I stay the night? I have nowhere else to go and your…" he broke off in a violent fit of coughing. When the coughs stopped, he continued. "Your house is the first I've seen in miles and I'm just so tired and so cold and I don't have any money and I…" he trailed off, seemingly too overwhelmed to get any more words out. He stared at Dean expectantly for a few moments before his beautiful blue eyes turned downwards and he took a step back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Belatedly, Dean realised that he'd just been standing there with his mouth hanging open, without actually giving a reply. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Come on in," Dean said, stepping back and gesturing towards the tiny hallway. The man lifted his head, looking hopeful and Dean gave him a small smile. He shuffled in timidly and Dean shut the door behind them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The fire is almost dead, unfortunately, but it is warmer here than it was outside. It's not much but it's home," Dean said, rubbing a hand nervously over the back of his neck, vaguely gesturing towards the small room with a table pushed into one corner and a chair in another. The man smiled softly. "It's beautiful," he said, walking over and sitting in an empty corner. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean suddenly realised that he did not have a bed to offer to the stranger, save the one on which he slept. He sighed and resigned himself to a night on the floor. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man had made himself comfortable next to the dying fire and gestured to the space beside him, silently asking Dean to join him. Dean obliged, ungraciously plopping himself down next to the man. His cheeks appeared even more sunken in the light of the fire and Dean found himself wondering when was the last time the man had eaten anything. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So, you never told me your name," Dean said, cringing internally. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man smiled, staring into the embers. "You never asked." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Well, then, what is your name?" Dean asked, somewhat embarrassed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Castiel," the man said. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Cas-tee... That's a mouthful. I think I'll just call you Cas. I'm Dean." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Castiel smiled again. "Hello, Dean. Thank you for having me here." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You know, Cas, we don't exactly get many travelling folks here. Our King ain't exactly well loved. What brings you to these parts? Family?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Castiel spoke his voice was bitter. "I don't have a family anymore. They abandoned me." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What? Why?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I recently sustained an injury and they didn't wish to help me because all I was was a burden to them and besides, all that time could be spent travelling. So they left me to die. I came across a man who nursed me to health. He was a good, kind man but I was an invalid and I couldn't in good conscience continue to impose on him any longer than I had. So I said my goodbyes and I've been travelling ever since. I don't know what really drew me to this place. But it was not like I had anywhere else to be and I was desperately hungry and tired so I figured, why not? And here I am," Castiel finished, spreading his arms somewhat awkwardly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean didn't know what to say. He simply stared at Castiel, whose blue eyes seemed to glow orange in the firelight. Before he could talk himself out of it, he reached out and patted Castiel's arm. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah, I kind of understand what you mean. My dad, he left Sammy and me to fend for ourselves most of our childhood while he just sat there and drank as much alcohol as he could get his hands on. And then he went and married another woman and had a son with her. They were nothing like our dad though, and Kate and Adam were always nice to us. I wish they were still here, though," Dean said wistfully. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Your family sounds wonderful. Tell me more about them," Castiel said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And so, the night went by without either of them getting a wink of sleep as they talked about everything under the sun, from family and friends to god to cruel rulers to what had happened in the kitchens last week. They laughed together and they teased each other and at times, they each lamented about some regret or misfortune. And all the while, Dean felt an inexplicable pull towards this strange man who he had only known a few hours, but who he didn't wish to say goodbye to yet. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sun came up before they even knew it. One moment they were laughing over a story that Cas had been narrating and the next they suddenly became aware of the weak golden rays streaming in through the partially open window. Dean got up and opened it entirely, letting the cold, fresh morning breeze fill the room and making them both shiver. A comfortable silence settled upon both of them and they stayed like that for several minutes, content simply with each other's company. After a while, Cas finally spoke up. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I suppose I should be on my way now." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean turned to look at him. Cas looked and sounded just as calm as he had most of the night but something about him felt off. Maybe Dean was seeing only what he wanted to see but he thought Cas' eyes held sadness in them. He was pretty sure his own eyes mirrored the sentiment. Dean didn't want him to go. So he said the only thing he could think of. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Stay." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cas looked up, face confused but hopeful at the same time. "Dean…" he began but he was cut off before he could say anything else. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I mean, I just thought that since you're not really going anywhere in particular it would be wise of you to settle somewhere cause man, your lifestyle is hella unhealthy and risky and it's not like we ain't got jobs here, I mean, we've got plenty of ways to earn some money and there must be <em> something </em>that falls under you skillset and-"</p>
<p>Distantly, Dean was aware that he was rambling but he didn't seem to be able to stop. He always did seem to keep going on and on without so much as a pause when he was nervous. He kept on talking without even knowing what he was saying and then, stopped abruptly when he felt Cas' hand on his arm. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Dean," he said, smiling softly. "I'd love to stay, but are you sure?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean only had to take one look in his unnaturally blue eyes before nodding in certainty. "Absolutely," he said. "I'd love to have you here." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean could swear that the wide, gummy smile that graced Cas' face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He smiled in return, so wide that it hurt but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Before he knew it, Dean found himself pulled into a tight hug which he returned just as enthusiastically. He buried his face in Cas' neck, breathing in the addicting smell of rain and flowers and reveling in the warmth that spread through him, making him happier than he had been in weeks. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>That night, when Dean came back from work, they discussed living arrangements. Despite Dean's insistence, Cas stood firm over his decision that a carpet on the floor would be enough for him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm used to sleeping in much worse conditions, Dean. I absolutely refuse to let you waste your hard earned money on another bed." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That's unacceptable, Cas. I can't let you sleep on the floor," Dean argued. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And so they went, back and forth, till Dean finally conceded, on the condition that Cas would buy his own bed when he'd made enough money. They talked some more, over some hard bread that Dean had bought and went to sleep content, excited for the morning to come. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Over the days, they settled into a comfortable routine. Dean would leave early in the morning, careful not to wake Cas up in the process. Cas would leave the house later in the morning to go work with the weaver, who had been very impressed with Castiel's skill when he'd gone looking for employment. Between the two of them, they made enough money to live much more comfortably than Dean had alone. But if he was being honest, Dean didn't really care about the money as much as he did about the company. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was inevitable, falling in love with Cas. He was everything Dean could ever think of wanting, and more. He was always kind to the children in the streets, cared about his family and friends and always put others before himself. He seemed to love cats and birds of all kinds. He was adorably awkward and shy and had so much goodness in his heart that Dean was surprised he hadn't already burst from all the love inside him. Naturally, Dean thought that the only person Cas couldn't love was him. So he pined away in silence, unaware that Cas was doing exactly the same thing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a beautiful, sunny day like any other when it happened. Dean's stomach rumbled loudly with hunger as he worked away in the heat. He ignored the dull ache in his stomach in favour of checking up on the bread he was baking. Charlie had quit her job to work with Gilda in Sir Cain's house. While Dean was happy for her, knowing that her new master treated her well, he hated how lonely he was at work. No longer did anyone make a few minutes of small talk with him in the hallway. No longer did anyone sneak him some bread to eat in a remote corner of the gardens. The only familiar face he saw at work anymore was that of Sir Alastair and needless to say, it wasn't exactly one that sparked joy. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>So, Dean was honestly quite surprised to see Cas in the kitchens late in the afternoon with Dean's favorite gummy smile on his face and a small package in his hands. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Cas? What the hell are you doing here?" Dean asked, as he wiped a plate and kept it aside. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I had to deliver some cloth to Lady Lilith," Cas said. He thrust the package towards Dean. "Here. I got a raise today so I got you some bread and chicken." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean simply stared at Cas while he talked about his work enthusiastically. He watched as Cas waved his hands around, speaking in an animated voice with a bright smile on his face all the while. Somehow, Cas seems to know exactly what he needed and when he needed it. His mind wandered and he simply couldn't help thinking about the thousands of things that made him fall more in love with Cas everyday. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to pull him close and kiss him stupid. His eyes went glassy as millions of thoughts ran through his head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"... Dean? Dean!" Cas said, waving his hands in front of the taller man's eyes. Only then did Dean realise that he'd zoned out. Cas looked anxious. "Would you rather not eat this? Would you like me to get you something else?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean's mind was blank. He blurted out the only thing he could think of. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I love you." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cas blinked in surprise. Dean sighed, knowing there was no taking it back now. And he didn't want to. It felt good to say it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I love you, Cas. So, so much. And I have no idea how to express it in words how much you mean to me and how much better you made my life by knocking on my door that night and…" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ah, Dean thought, cringing internally. There we go again with the rambling. He went on and on, not knowing how to stop and definitely embarrassing himself more with every second that went by. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cas shut him up with a kiss. </p>
<p>He pressed his lips against Dean, gently first and then they grew frantic, clutching at each other desperately, everything else forgotten. And that is how one of the more spiteful maids found them and snitched on them. They were kicked out of the mansion and Dean didn't get paid that day but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Cas was worth it, and more. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They got married two years later. It was the happiest day of Dean's life. When they fell into bed together that night, worshipping each other with lips on bare skin and fell asleep in each other's arms afterwards, Dean thanked whatever gods had brought Cas to him. Never mind that he wasn't a believer. He could never be thankful enough to have met the wonderful man sleeping next to him. He wrapped his arms more securely around his husband (<em> husband!) </em>, kissed the top of his head and fell asleep with an addictive sort of happiness coursing through him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Life treated them both well. Dean had quit working for Alastair and followed in Charlie's footsteps. Sir Cain was a good man who paid him well and treated him more like a friend than an employee. When before he had received no appreciation, nowadays he was praised by Sir Cain and Lady Colette at every meal. The old knight had gotten acquainted with Cas one day when he had brought food for Dean and they'd bonded over their shared love for bees. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam finally had enough time to resume his monthly visits and he always brought Eileen along. Her and Cas were unstoppable together. But despite being on the receiving end of many of their pranks, Dean always found himself falling a little more in love with his husband. Often, Charlie came over with Gilda or Dean and Cas visited them. Benny and Andrea were too busy with their daughter most of the time but they joined whenever they could. Dean was perfectly happy with his life and couldn't wish for anything more. Maybe in a few years he and Cas would look into bringing home a little child but for now, he was content. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A year went by in perfect bliss, and then the war came. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nobody had any idea what the war started over but King Azazel always jumped at every opportunity to conquer and expand his territory. So he called upon all his knights, including Sir Cain, who was old and not as agile as he'd once been, to fight alongside him in the war. The kingdom they were fighting against was relatively very small and weak, and no one had expected the war to go on for very long. But the war dragged on and on and on, and it was a bad time for everyone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean's income had reduced considerably, with Sir Cain and most of his men fighting in the war and funds being diverted to supplies. They'd been hit hard by the loss of money. Dean and Cas went back to trying to fill their stomachs with a single meal a day. And as the war went on, they began getting lesser and lesser to eat. Dean tried looking for other employment but nothing really paid well. Almost everyone was struggling just as much as them. So Dean worked hard everyday, and never got enough of a reward. He and Cas went to bed still hungry every day. And he couldn't do anything about it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cas hated seeing his husband look so small and defeated. Sure, he was hungry but he cared more about Dean's well being. He couldn’t see his husband work himself into the ground to try and get something more filling for the both of them to eat. Dean went to bed with his muscles all sore and he hardly got enough sleep because of all the stress. The final straw was when Cas woke up one day in the middle of the night to quiet sobbing and found his husband's face buried in his pillow with his back turned towards Cas. He had held Dean tight that night, when he'd stopped crying and they had both pretended in the morning, in some unspoken agreement in an attempt to preserve Dean's dignity, that nothing of note had happened the night before. But Cas had had enough. They needed more money and he wasn't about to let Dean gamble his health over it. So he did the only thing he knew how to. He weaved. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean had taken a day off from work on Cas' insistence. He was just too tired to keep labouring on. Cas would've taken a day off to take care of Dean but he simply could not afford to miss work. So he got up quietly, pulled the covers up securely around Dean, kissed his forehead once and left for work. He worked till his hands ached and he was ready to fall asleep right where he stood. When he got over with his work he didn't linger around to talk to his friends like he usually did. He spoke to his employer and selected a small loom to take home. He made his way back home, slow and exhausted, after picking up some bread on the way that was most likely stale. He opened the door to their house as quietly as he could and found Dean exactly as he'd left him in the morning, looking pale and with dark rings under his eyes. Even sick and tired, his husband's eyes had an undying fire in them. He was still beautiful. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Hello, Dean," Cas said, going up to Dean and kissing him gently. Dean held Cas close and buried his face in his chest. They stayed there for a long while, just finding comfort in each other's embrace, before Cas pulled back and patted the package of bread he'd brought with him. They didn't even have the energy to move to the table and get plates to eat. They simply settled close together in bed and ate straight from the package. Afterwards, when Cas had cleaned up, he decided to get to work. He got out of bed and Dean made a protesting sound. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Go to sleep, Dean," Cas said, making his way to the door. "I'm going to do some weaving. I borrowed one of the smaller looms from the shop. Just do me a small favour, will you? Please don't come into the next room while I'm weaving. At any cost. I'll come back here when I'm done." </p>
<p>Dean just nodded, unable to understand why Cas was asking for this. But if his husband wanted to work alone for a while, Dean could give him that. Maybe he'd gotten tired of Dean's presence and needed some time to himself. Either way, Cas deserved this much. Dean didn't question him and watched him walk out of the room, firmly shutting the door behind him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cas didn't come to bed that night. </p>
<p>Dean had already slept so much all day that sleep eluded him most of the night. Many a time, he debated getting up and asking Cas to get some rest with him but held himself back every time, thinking about Cas' strange request. Eventually, he was lulled to sleep by the rhythmic clicking coming from the other room. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next morning, when he woke up, Cas wasn't there. Dean felt irrationally sad. This was the second day in a row that he'd woken up without his husband in his arms. There was also a sense of worry gnawing at him. Why hadn't Cas come to sleep when he'd been so tired after work? Had something happened to him? Had he fallen asleep on the cold floor in the next room? Was he sick? Just as Dean was contemplating breaking his promise and looking for Cas, the door opened and in walked his husband, leaning against the door frame. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cas looked terrible. His usually tan skin was clammy and pale, and he seemed to be unable to stand on his feet without support. There were beads of sweat clinging to his temples and his breathing was laboured. His hair was even messier than usual. His eyes, normally such a vivid blue, looked glassy, with dark bags under them. But he had a huge smile on his face. Dean immediately got up and walked up to him, cupping his cheek with one hand. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Why did you not sleep last night, Cas?" Dean asked, voice barely above a whisper. </p>
<p>"I was weaving," Cas answered. His voice was hoarse from disuse. "Come look at what I made," he said, taking Dean's hand in his own cold one and dragging him along behind him. He led him to the table in the corner. And that's when Dean laid his eyes upon Cas' work. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had to be the most beautiful cloth Dean had ever seen. It was a strange, shimmering sort of black that seemed rather otherworldly to look at. It was woven expertly, not a single flaw in the fabric. He reached his hand out to run his fingers over it. It was as soft to the touch as it looked, like a bird's feathers. This was the most luxurious thing Dean had ever seen. Surely it was fit for a noble? Even the royal weavers couldn't have woven something so skillfully. </p>
<p>"You made this, Cas?" Dean asked in awe. Cas nodded proudly, slumping against Dean, who supported him with a hand on his back. They stood there for a while in comfortable silence before Cas spoke. </p>
<p>"I'm going to sell it straight to the queen. Whatever money we make should last us a good while." </p>
<p>Dean nodded. "It better, if it made you so sick to weave this. I care about you a great deal more than money." </p>
<p>Cas chuckled. He pressed a kiss to Dean's cheek before they went back to bed, deciding to simply spend the day with each other, resting and recovering. They discussed their plans for the future, joked around and lazily made out all over the house. For the first time in months, both of them were optimistic about the days to come. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Just as they'd hoped, Cas got paid handsomely for the cloth. More than the two of them had predicted, even. No longer did they have to go hungry to bed. No longer did they have to fall ill working themselves to the bone to earn enough for something to eat. Dean thought he'd never have the words to express how proud and grateful he was for Cas. So he did the only thing he knew how to. He showed him. They went to sleep that night with a pleasurable ache in their limbs, full bellies and smiles. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The war went on for a long time. Every other month, when they were falling short of money, Cas weaved. Dean didn't want him to, claiming that Cas was working too hard and money shouldn't come at the cost of his health. But Cas refused to budge. He said it was all he had to offer. Dean disagreed vehemently. They had many fights about it but in the end Cas always won. And every time, he made Dean promise to humour his peculiar request of being left alone while weaving. Every piece of cloth he produced turned out to be as beautiful as the last. In time, merchants from the neighbouring ally kingdoms bought his wares to deliver to nobles of their kingdoms, too. And even though Cas got sick, he always recovered soon enough. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even with their occasional fights and disagreements, Dean and Cas were happy. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They should've known that it was too good to last. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They had been married for four years when Sam got stabbed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a night like any other. It was raining hard outside. Dean and Cas sat in the comfortable chairs in front of the fire, talking and laughing with each other. And then Cas brought up a topic that was still fairly new for them, something that they both approached delicately. They had been talking about bringing home a little child to live with them but they both had their fears and reservations. Just as they had gotten down to seriously discussing it instead of skirting around it like they usually did, a knock sounded on the door. Dean grumbled, but got up to open the door. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was Eileen standing hunched against the door frame on the other side. Her clothes were torn and bloody, there were wounds on her head and arms and her face was streaked with tears. A sob was torn away from her before she could stop it, and Cas was immediately at the door beside his husband. He took one look at Eileen and pulled her in, wrapping both her and Dean in a hug. He knew Dean was assuming the worst, and so was Cas, if he was being honest. He also knew that Dean was the one who'd raised Sam when they were both kids and so was taking this much worse. Cas prayed, for both Eileen's sake and Dean's, that things weren't as bad as they looked. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After they'd calmed Eileen down enough, she finally started telling them what had happened. The movements of her hands were not as fluid as they usually were, and she was ready to collapse but she kept going. Sam had recently proved a rich, influential merchant guilty of thievery, fraud and harassment, among other things. The man, angered by this, had hired men to kill Sam and his wife in their sleep. But they'd failed. Eileen had gotten away and Sam had been stabbed, but he was still alive. He was with a healer, Fergus Crowley, who had been treating him since Sam had been brought to him. But his injuries were grave and no one knew if he'd even make it through the night. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time Eileen was done, Dean had turned pale and his grip on Cas' hand was deathlike. They sat in silence for a few moments, none of them knowing what to do. Then Dean got up abruptly, let go of Cas' hand stalked out of the house. Immediately, Cas and Eileen jumped up and followed him out into the rain. Drenched and shivering, they made their way across the town to Crowley's house, where Sam was. Dean knocked, no, banged at the door till Crowley opened it with a scowl on his face. Dean didn't wait for him to speak, simply pushed past the healer, ignoring his protests, and made his way straight to Sam. Cas stayed back and talked to Crowley while Eileen followed Dean. After he was done convincing Crowley that they didn't mean any harm and wouldn't disrupt his work, he was led to the room where Sam was kept. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first thing Cas noticed was Dean, standing frozen outside the door. His usually lively green eyes were blank and his mouth was set into a thin line. Before Cas could offer any comfort, he turned and walked out of the house in quick, long steps. Cas thought of going after him but then reasoned against it, knowing that Dean needed some space and time alone. He turned his head and that's when he saw Sam lying on the bed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cas couldn't name the feeling that took root inside of him. Sorrow? Grief? Dread? He had no clue. Sam was pallid. His eyes were closed and he did look sort of peaceful. There were huge swaths of bandages wrapped around his torso, stained red with blood. His hair was matted. Without knowing what he was doing, Cas found his legs carrying him to the bedside of the man who was a brother to him. He clasped Sam's hand in his own and stayed there for a long, long time, till Crowley came in and pulled him away to send him to the spare room with Dean. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam made it through the first night. </p>
<p>No one got any sleep. Dean was slumped in Cas' arms and Eileen stared gloomily outside the window all night. In the room next to theirs, Crowley worked tirelessly, mixing up pastes and antiseptics, grinding herbs and weighing them. Morning came and with it good news. Crowley was confident that Sam would survive, provided he got proper medication. For the first time since last night, Cas saw something like a glimmer of hope in his husband's eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They soon found out, however, that treatment would be very expensive. With most of the money and possessions from their house stolen, Eileen definitely could not afford to cover all the expenses by herself. So Dean and Cas took upon themselves the responsibility to earn money for the younger Winchester's treatment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>No matter how hard they worked, though, it wasn't enough. The fee expected from them was a huge sum, because the herbs Crowley needed were incredibly rare and immeasurably costly. Dean worked every odd job he could find besides cooking and so did Cas, when he was not weaving. They toiled away all day and by the end of the week, the money they'd collected barely made a dent in the amount they needed to pay. Crowley expected the payment by the end of the month. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>So Cas once again turned to what he did best. He brought home the small loom with him one evening. Dean was too desperate to even protest. Cas sent him to the bedroom, after making him promise not to walk in on him while he was weaving. Dean was just too drained to protest. He simply nodded and went to sleep. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cas sold the cloth at a price higher than he previously had. His cloth was sought after so much that nobody had any qualms about paying him the extra money. As he walked back home, he realised that this - Cas weaving cloth - was the only way he and Dean would be able to make enough money to pay for Sam. The thought and its implications scared him, but it was a sacrifice he'd willingly make for his family, for Dean. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next few nights, Cas barely slept at all. Every night, he coaxed Dean into bed and then sat down with his loom in the other room. Every night, Dean fell asleep to the clicking of the loom and the spot on the bed next to him cold and empty. And every morning Dean woke up to an empty bed and a deafening silence, meaning Cas had finished his work. Every morning he found Cas slumped in the chair, or on the floor, asleep. Every morning he seemed more pale and haggard, more gaunt and thin. Worry marred his face even as he slept, and he shivered from the cold. Three days into this routine, Dean asked him to stop. Every day, when Dean woke his husband with a kiss to feverish skin, he begged him to stop exerting himself so much, to stop weaving and rest. And every day, Cas gave him the same answer, that this was the only way that they'd ever make enough money. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Two weeks had gone by. Dean suddenly woke up in the middle of the night, alone. The first thing he heard was the sound of the damned loom. Anger and worry coursed through him. He got out of bed, determined to get Cas to sleep at any cost. He padded barefoot across the room and flung the door open, profanities ready at the tip of his tongue. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The words died on his lips when he took in the sight in front of him. Cas wasn't at the loom. Cas was nowhere in the room. Instead, he found a beautiful black swan, pulling out one of its own feathers to spin into the cloth. The swan looked up at the noise and its eyes met Dean's. </p>
<p>Dean would recognise that shade anywhere. </p>
<p>They were the eyes of the swan Dean had saved all those years ago. </p>
<p>They were the colour of Cas' eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean blinked, and in an instant it was Cas standing in front of him instead of the swan, tears brimming in his eyes and running down his cheeks.</p>
<p>"What have you done, Dean?" he whispered, brokenly. He pulled Dean close and sobbed into his chest. Dean was too shocked to do anything other than hold his husband tight. Cas cried, for what Dean didn't know. Did he really think Dean would abandon him because of this? Hate him? Dean could do nothing but wait. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then Cas told him his story, face still buried in Dean's chest. His entire family, his brothers and sisters, had been cursed by his aunt who dabbled in black magic. She'd hated her brother and this is how she'd gotten her revenge. Initially, they were stuck in bird form during the day and turned back into humans at night. But later, they were able to control their transformation. Then, one day, a hunter shot Cas. His family abandoned him. And that is how Dean found him, and helped him. Cas had left and tried to find his family, but they refused to take him back. And so he found his way back to Dean. He'd always made Dean promise not to watch him while weaving because his curse also entailed that if anyone saw him in his swan form after they'd seen his human form, he'd be dead within the week. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean didn't register the wetness on his cheeks till now. He held Cas tighter in his arms. As dawn broke and the cloth lay half finished on the loom, both men cried for the losses that were yet to come. </p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Every night, Dean sat with Cas as he transformed into a swan and weaved. They simply basked in each other's company while they could. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They paid Crowley off just the day before the fateful night. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next day was spent at home. Neither of them cared about work. They made love slowly, worshipping each other, whispering promises that could never be kept. Afterwards, they lay in bed together as the sun set, looking into each other's eyes, memorising every detail. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean hadn't meant to fall asleep. He'd wanted to stay up all night, watching his husband, kissing him. But sleep he did, for he had his husband in his arms in their bed for the first time in weeks, and he couldn't help the exhaustion catching up on him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He woke up with Cas in his arms. For a few moments, the only thing he felt was happiness and crushing relief, as he cuddled his husband and pressed a kiss to his messy hair. And then he reached out for Cas' cheek. It was cold to the touch. His beautiful blue eyes stared vacantly into empty space. Dean felt nauseous. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wordlessly, Dean got up. He pulled a black feather out of his nightstand that had replaced his bedside table. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The feather had seen better days. It was bent at odd angles. The barbs were ruffled now and some of them were torn. The feather had lost its shine. The inky black was dull now. It didn't look like anything special. It didn't look like it could be woven into the most beautiful kind of cloth. It didn't look like it had once belonged to the most important person in the world. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He backed up against the wall and slid down to the floor. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean clutched the feather to his chest and cried. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was terrible but still better than the finale (yes I'm still salty about that).</p>
<p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>